100 Points in Time
by Tasogare-Taichou
Summary: IchiRuki: A collection of 100 oneshots detailing their continuing relationship. Not all of these are in order, though they do all reference the same continuum.
1. Chapter 1

**Title:** Colour My World  
**Fandom:** Bleach  
**Characters:** Kurosaki Ichigo/Kuchiki Rukia  
**Prompt:** Colourless  
**Word Count:** 800something  
**Rating:** PG  
**Summary:** Rukia's thoughts on the differences between two worlds, and the things that have changed them both.  
**Author's Notes:** So yeah, a lot less blatent IchiRuki in this one than I'm used to putting in, this is a good deal more introspective than most of my stuff, but don't worry there will be fluff soon. XD.

Whoever said that everything was coloured in the world... well, they'd never been to Seireitei. She'd tried to explain it to him once, how his world and her own differed so completely and utterly not just on the surface levels that were blaringly obvious, but on an even deeper and more profound sense. And like always, he'd totally missed the point. But then, that was part of the problem.

Kurosaki Ichigo had been raised with colours. He belonged to the world full of light and life and hopes and dreams. How _could_ he have understood the dry, colourless painting that was her world.

Amidst the scowls and muttered insults, she'd simply plopped down on the roof and tried to explain -- at least enough to where she could make him shut up -- why they were different. It wasn't hard, at least in Rukia's eyes, to find where the colours from his world bled out into the faint washed-out mosaic that she was so accustomed to. There was a line, thin and wavering yet still so sharply defined to her eyes, that seperated them.

Seireitei; sterile, structured, with it's black and white constrictures of rules and regulations and traditions so deeply rooted in a foundation of certainty that it's stranglehold bled life out of the world, leaving it an empty and transparent husk. A film of cloudy opacity that swept over everything and bleached it to a mournful tone.

It wasn't even that she didn't love her world. She did, in a fashion. Or at least, there had been a time when she had. A time before she'd come to realize that the veil of wind-washed faint light shrouded everything, drowning what some would have considered hope and life beneath it's comforting and confining rules. Rules were safety, they were roots and grounding and a balance that ensured the continuation of everything this world stood for. But then, that was the biggest difference between her world and his. Hers... was a duty-bound world, a purpose-ridden world, with the wild abandon for life and hope and the unknown a foreign and detached thing, something to be feared and avoided the same way her noble Kuchiki family avoided emotions and the ties they wrought.

The emotions were missing from her world too, or perhaps they were simply the same as everything else. Bled dry of colour and life and warmth, a hollow and resounding cavity that once had held something that could be termed closeness. But then, it had to be like that. Had to be sterile and straight-foreward and _dead_. Because that was the life of a shinigami, a life of duty and restriction and mundane. They weren't meant to have lives like his, lives like those they watched over. That had been their due and _this_ was now their reward.

His was different, his world of life and light. A shockingly violent maelstrom of colour and sound and sensation that threatened to overwhelm and overshadow everything it touched with it's own fire and colour and vibrancy of tone. Life seeping from every corner, challengeing the colourless swath that painted itself just beyond the reaches of most humans' perceptions.

That was what had really changed _her_ life in the first place. Being trapped in his world, surrounded by and innundated by the rush of colour and warmth and activity. Choked and held down by the threads of emotion and thought and _hope_ that made up the lifeblood of this world that was anything other than colourless.

His world had changed hers, and not just in her own meager circle of events and happenstance. With bright hair and even brighter hope and soul, he'd crept into her life -- well, more like crashed into it -- and brought that colour with him. Bleeding bright rays and trickles of light and life everywhere he touched, forcing back the walls and the curtains and shrouds and making her -- and others, she was sure -- begin to see, begin to covet that hope and strength that poured forth from the world they'd once known.

In her own life, the way she saw things, the way she coveted and yearned for those emotions now that should have been carefully bottled and placed on a shelf to mold and while away the long years until she'd forgotten what they felt like. In Seireitei, where his influence was still being felt even now, with war raging on all sides and the fate of the world itself hanging in a peril.

He'd brought colour into her world, but even moreso he'd brought colour into her _life_. Turne and twisted her and made her look, made her see things she should have avoided, _would_ have avoided had she been given the chance. But he hadn't given it to her. Colourless no more, he had painted his influence on her and her world and challenged it. Dared it to remain, to fade and cover and ignore the way it always had. But somehow... she didn't know how successful it would be this time. Not after Kurosaki Ichigo had made his mark on it.


	2. Chapter 2

**Title:** Defining "Family"  
**Fandom:** Bleach  
**Characters:** Kurosaki Ichigo and Kuchiki Rukia  
**Prompt:** 024 - Family  
**Word Count:** Not a clue  
**Rating:** G  
**Summary:** Is it really so simple to define such a thing?  
**Author's Notes:** Ok, so I finally decided -- after much agonizing -- that I am going to have all of my fics for this challenge make use of the OC Kurosaki family that I tend to use in roleplay. Which would be IchiRuki and their 4 kids. Not every fic will necessarily have everyone listed in it, but they are all going to be just little snippets out of the same continuum. Just bc I want them all to somehow relate in my head. XD. Please enjoy, and if you are curious ABOUT my OC family, feel free to go take a jaunt into my personal journal for a summary, seeing as I've been toying with writing a little profile for my OC children. XD.

"What does family mean?"

It was a question she honestly hadn't expected to hear, and one that didn't have an easy answer -- mostly because there wasn't just _one_ answer. Family was an important word in Soul Society. Especially to those growing up amidst the harsh realities and settings of the lower districts of Rukongai. "Family" meant more than a simple collection of individuals who were related by blood. Even one such as she, who'd grown up alone in the wealth of chaos and despair that characterized Inuzuri and so much else of the dregs of Soul Society, knew that much. She'd been taught that at a young age, taught that the word "family" meant so much more than relation, that it meant sharing, and watching out for each other.

That "family" could be made up of a rag-tag group of kids struggling and fighting and clawing for survival every day of their life had never seemed an oddity to her. In her world, that _was_ family. Family was what you made of yourself, what you formed in order to survive, to get by in a world where being on your own -- at least for many -- spelled nothing but loneliness, despair, and hardship. Family was a necessity, even to those like her who had spent much of their youth alone, stubbornly mired in the idea that they could be self-sufficient.

It had been Renji and the other children, welcoming her into their circle, that had taught her that family could be more than that. That amidst the survival and the hardships and the necessity there was a sense of comeraderie, of closeness and caring that served to fill an emptiness where she'd never really noticed it before. Growing older, watching those she loved slip away, she'd learned yet another facet of the word "family". Sorrow. Heartache. The resolve to move foreward and never look back and know that those who had been lost would look down on them and be proud. The knowledge that "family" stretched beyond the boundaries they could see.

Years had passed, and the definition of family had been stretched and warped and expanded ever further. Family came to mean a far-reaching, lofty pedestal, crowned with the mark of nobility. A nigh-unreachable platform that those around her coveted and envied. To belong to a _real_ family, to share one's very name with others, not to have some mock-up gathering of miscreants and lost souls. "Family" became a symbol, a pinnacle to strive for, and something that she couldn't quite see the sparkle that others saw in it.

"Family" was still what she'd once had, the easy familiarity and joviality she shared with Renji, the memories of afternoons spent fishing in the canals, kimono rolled up and tied to keep it out of the water, sleeves held back while she determinedly tried to spear one of the elusive morsels of food that swam by. Family was the laughter, the joking, the number of times she'd made her best friend fall on his face in righteous payback for some comment or action. It was something... warm.

But all too soon, that had changed, as she'd been swept away into the coils and sterility of the Kuchiki clan, bathed in it's white and pristine colours of perfection and taught how family "should" and "must" act. She'd watched over her figurative shoulder as the warmth in her life had faded, turning it's back and walking away; letting her go and never sparing a last glance. He'd said it was the best for her, but she'd failed to see how that was true. But regardless, the old days were gone. "Family" would never be the same. And so she'd bowed her head and resigned herself.

Come to know the formality, the stiffness and distance that came with belonging to a _real_ family. Watched the back of her brother's head in silence, inwardly craving something, anything, a commonality that would allow her to know that somewhere, deep inside, there was more to "family" then simply an adopted relation. That the man who had taken her in, who had made her his sister, cared for her beyond the simple fact that as a member of his clan she should do well to uphold the noble name as it was fit.

And then that cold had been broken, a shaft of light had illuminated the cobwebs surrounding what she'd once termed "family", a pair of green eyes and a shock of unruly black hair that treated her not with the stiff and distantly formal ways that others around her did, but with an easy and casual manner that she'd grown so unused to that she hardly knew how to respond at first. And amidst the awkwardness and fumbling that came with her own insecurities, she'd grown to love her new family. Love the people of her division, love her gentle captain, love the fun and often-loud ways the two third-seats behaved. And most of all, loved the man who'd reminded her what "family" could really be.

That illusion, for she came to realize that nothing so wonderful could ever be anything but, was shattered one night in a flash of steel and a downpour of rain. She'd watched, horrified and stunned, as the keystone of her family slipped from life in her hands, quietly thanking her for doing what she considered unthinkable. And at that moment, she'd turned her back on family. Family was something that brought you pain, that was merely an illusion slipping through your fingers. It was better, perhaps, to simply content herself with the cool and smooth coils of duty, to cling to the simple thought that "family" meant an obligation. It was duty, purpose, obligation and honor.

But even that had been challenged. Challenged when another, so like the first, had barged into her life -- or her into his, it was hardly a matter for speculation -- and had simply _refused_ to accept such a thing. No, he hadn't suggested she change her outlook, he had outright _demanded_ it.

She'd stood there, in a stunned half-aware state, the Hollow's presence -- along with the rest of the world -- seeming miles away as she'd watched the orange-haired boy struggle against the kidou, risk everything to save HIS family. And somehow, something about the way he strove, the way he fought... it touched something in her. And before she could even stop to think about it, think about how she was risking everything, potentially throwing away all she had and all she was, and for a _boy_ she didn't even know, she'd stepped in, offering her aid, as something inside of her screamed out in protest at simply standing by. A part that wanted to _protect_, to safeguard something that was so like the image of "family" she'd hidden away deep in her heart.

How could she have known that her one simple action, her one refusal to back down would have changed her life so much? And yet it had. She'd seen the boy grow, seen him fight and risk life and limb, first for her, then for another of his nakama, his "family". And she'd watched, felt herself drawn into it, like a thread woven into a tapestry until she'd come to realize that her family had become his, at least in part. That among those he counted dear, were also those who were precious to her.

And his ways had created upheavels, seen the change of worlds and so much in between. She'd seen her brother begin to shed the cold mask of ice, begin to gradually open up and make an attempt at creating a "real" family with her. It would never be perfect, never be that loud, boisterous ideal, yet that strengely mattered little anymore. She'd watched as her best friend, the first one she'd called "family", walked back into her life, working to heal what both had finally realized was broken. And though things would never be exactly the same, even that brought with it a sense of warmth, of closeness.

The others around her had grown and changed, knitting her into their fabric of family, making her as much a part of it as each of them was. And in doing so, they'd taught her so much that she'd never even realized was missing.

And she'd seen the boy grow. In power, in resolve and strength, and finally, into the man he was today.

"Momma?"

Violet eyes blinked and refocused, shaken out of their momentary reverie by her son's tug at her hand, shifting to rest on the nearly-identical pair that stared up at her from the floor beside her chair. Smiling, Rukia reached out and ruffled her son's unruly orange fringe with a chuckle, the boy beaming and setting down the marker he was colouring with.

"I'm sorry, Kaien, I got distracted for a minute."

She watched as the 4-yr old nodded, once again busying himself with colouring his picture. _What does family mean?_ A few moments ago, it had seemed like such a difficult, complex question. But now, as she sat and watched her son draw red smiles on the scribbled faces of her family... the answer wasn't really so hard after all.


	3. Chapter 3

**Title:** Same Old Thing  
**Fandom:** Bleach  
**Characters:** Kurosaki Ichigo x Kuchiki Rukia  
**Prompt:** Children  
**Word Count:** Who Knows  
**Rating:** PG  
**Summary:** The more things change, the more they stay the same.  
**Author's Notes:** Ichigo, Rukia, and Bleach as a whole do not belong to me. They belong to Kubo-sensei, who gives me fodder for my plot-bunnies. Kaien, Renji, and the rest of the extended Kurosaki clan on the other hand ARE mine. Which means no swipey.

They were so different. And not only from each other -- even the twins, near-identical in appearance that they were -- but... so different from other children she'd known. Maybe it was the fact that she'd grown up in Rukongai, surrounded by children who didn't _have_ families, who didn't _know_ where their next meal was coming from. That sort of upbringing... bred different characteristics. Certainly, all four of them were smart, intelligent, capable people. But they lacked the same sort of street smarts that she'd been forced to acquire.

_Not that I'm not glad for that difference..._

Ichigo had rolled his eyes at her when she'd mentioned it and pointedly reminded her that all of their offspring were, as he put it, "miserable little hellions who should be beaten twice a day simply to keep them from having the time to worry about causing trouble". She'd hit him, but that wasn't anything unusual. Especially since she knew he couldn't deny -- no matter how he might have tried -- that of the two of them it was _he_ who spoiled the girls so much, and the one who stayed up late to read Renji an extra story. The thought of Kurosaki Ichigo, a captain of the Gotei-13, one of the most respected -- and feared, to a degree -- men in Soul Society, sitting curled up with an 8 year old, doing silly voices to inane storybooks was enough to make even her giggle.

He was a good father, and it showed in their children, in the way they all flocked to him at any given moment. Well, except for Kaien. But then, their oldest son always _had_ been such an enigma to them, despite his physical similarity to his father. Kaien was just... Kaien. Ichigo always used to say that their son as a child resembled himself as an adult, a fact that Rukia was never certain she really liked. But similarities or not, Kaien remained stubbornly Kaien, his mercurial, sometimes broody nature and disregard for rules -- and his father -- typically offset by his easy disposition and tendency towards long periods of pensive silence.

Thinking of Kaien easily drew her attention back to the courtyard, watching that same eldest son put his little brother through his paces. It was almost like watching Ichigo again at that age -- or at least, relatively close, Kaien was only 13 -- as he easily darted around the grassy area, Yamibari wielded without the usual clumsiness that most people of his age would have had to allow for. But then, that was the obvious result of being a full-fledged shinigami at such a young age. Unseated still, of course, but nonetheless his skill still showed through in his movements as he parried, eyes flashing the green and black that meant he was still using his Hollow with the same amount of ease with which he accomplished nearly everything.

_Oh come on, Kaien... is that really fair?_

Even as she recognized the mothering portion of her speak up in her mind, the shinigami part coldly and methodically commented back that yes, it WAS fair. That if he wanted to learn, to advance and get better, that Renji would have to deal with his older brother's tricks. Violet eyes shifted from the identical pair in Kaien's face to her younger son, holding his practice sword askance, eyes nearly glowing copper from beneath shaggy black bangs. Unlike Kaien's fairly polished style, Renji fought with all the stubbornness and energy of a determined child who is convinced that he knows exactly what to do. Which was the problem at hand, and the likely reason why his usually smiling face held such a note of aggravation.

"Watching the carnage?"

Glancing up, she sighed and nodded as Ichigo leaned an arm against the door-frame, his taller form dwarfing hers as he joined her in studying the boys' fight.

"Renji's getting better, but I still wonder if Kaien's being too hard on him. He's just a kid, afterall."

And, of course, her momentary display of motherly concern was received with the same typical answer. Which was Ichigo rolling his eyes and scoffing.

"Feh, you're mothering too much. He's fine."

Frowning, she debated kicking him again. He deserved it, whether for this comment or for something else that she could figure out later. She was NOT mothering too much. Hell, _he_ was the better parent than she was, he always had been. But at least _she_ seemed to think there was something slightly wrong with their 13-year old son virtually wiping the floor with their 8-year old son. Attention momentarily diverted from the fight, she took a moment to elbow him in the gut, making sure she hit that one sensitive spot with the point of her elbow. Served him right.

"You _know_ what I'm talking about, idiot! If he's not careful, then-"

A scream from Renji drew their attention away from their arguement and back to the courtyard, where Kaien had dropped Yamibari and was keeping Renji at bay with one hand, mask drawn down over his face as he stubbornly faced down the other boy.

"Pull it back, Renji! Stop it, you're in control! Pull it back!"

She could feel Ichigo tense beside her, see the way his jaw set and his eyes hardened as they watched their youngest child struggle for dominance, fighting against Kaien's grip for a moment before the mask shattered away and he was just another little boy, on his knees on the grass, panting wildly.

_**That's**__ why, Ichigo._

And that was another thing that was so different, so different from nearly _any_ other children -- Hiyori and Shinji's two not included -- that weighed so heavily on their minds as she watched Kaien's mask fade. Sighing, he stepped forward and reached down to haul Renji up by one shoulder, violet eyes stern.

"You can't do that, Renji, you can't lose your control like that."

Glancing down, she could see Ichigo's hand draw up into a fist. He hated this, hated watching any of their children struggle with what he felt was a curse he had inflicted on them. It had been an eerie relief when Kaien had been so different, his Hollow seeming not to care about dominance and content to work in an almost symbiosis with the boy. And in a way, she couldn't help but think that they should have been prepared for the other extreme. But that didn't make it any easier for either of them, and she was certain it didn't make it any easier for Ichigo, forced to watch his youngest try and keep tenuous control over something he himself had struggled so much with. Reaching over, she curled smaller fingers around his wrist, a gesture of support, before taking a step down. They'd been at this long enough, it was time to break up the more sour mood.

Only... she didn't get a chance. That chance was superceded by a Chappy-festooned notebook that hit Kaien right in the face. Masaki, right on time. Suppressing another giggle at her son's expense, Rukia paused long enough to watch the smaller, red and white garbed form of her daughter march right over to Kaien and lay into him. She'd have to break it up eventually, the two of them had never gotten along, but for the moment she could simply sit back and watch, enjoying the nostalgic picture they presented. Maybe it was just that their two oldest resembled each of them so very much, but it was almost like turning back the clock, back to when they'd first met. Not that they didn't argue just as badly now, but they were both more weathered, older, more tempered by time and experiences.

"Do you think they'll stop anytime soon?"

Smiling, Rukia shook her head as she smaller form of her other daughter took up space beside her, reaching one hand over to run it through Hisana's long black hair. Shifting the wrapped bento under one arm, Hisana simply stood and watched quietly as her siblings proceeded to brow-beat each other, Renji attempting to extricate himself from the situation.

"No... no, I wouldn't expect that to happen any time soon, Hisana. We might as well just find ourselves a nice seat and watch."

She knew very well that her children wouldn't ever be what could be considered "normal", but then... she wouldn't really have wanted them any other way.


	4. Chapter 4

**Title:** Summer Rivalries  
**Fandom:** Bleach  
**Characters:** IchigoxRukia  
**Prompt:** Summer  
**Word Count:**  
**Rating:** PG  
**Summary:** Some rivalries die hard  
**Author's Notes:** This little plotbunny just came to mind one day as what would likely be a typical outing were these two families to get together at some point.

It was really what could be called a "typical" day. Nice, even. A welcome break from lives of Hollow-hunting and captaining and all of those other boring, mind-numbingly irritating things that too-often made up adult life. The only disappointing part was that they'd all but had to steal this sort of time.

_But it's worth it..._

And indeed, it had been worth it, or at least that's what Rukia thought. Worth it to sneakily avoid her brother when she knew perfectly well that he was expecting them to be in the office, whispering the girls into silence -- she didn't have to do it with Kaien, he seemed to already know -- and suppressing giggles as the 5 of them had snuck out the back window of Ichigo's office to play hooky.

Thankfully, the kids had seemed to think it the most marvelous game and had been eager to help out and play along. Which made it all that easier to slip through the Senkaimon and just go _home_ for a bit. Even if they'd decided to vacate the house and instead spend their purloined afternoon enjoying the fresh summer breeze with a picnic basket.

She'd made Ichigo carry it, of course, had even ground her heel into the top of his foot when he initially balked and stated that if he had to eat her cooking it was just plain cruel of her to make him work as well. Which had devolved into one of their usual arguements. That she had won, the way she generally always won them. She'd cheated, of course, but that was entirely beside the point and the end result had been their family on the hill, under the tree.

And... it had just been _nice_. A nice little dose of "normal" in their lives as she'd curled up leaning against his side and peeled apples for the kids, such a deliciously mundane and yet meaningful time where she got to forget the shinigami and all the responsibilities that came with it and just pretend that they were all normal everyday people, just parents and children having an outing.

And then things had taken another turn, when Ishida and Inoue had shown up when they were midway through their meal, Souken tagging along behind them, his little glasses a mimicry of his father's. And their family outing had become more than that, had turned into an opportunity to catch up and revel in time spent with friends, even though she knew that the two men would never admit it.

_Too stubborn, both of them._

Which only proved itself as she caught Ichigo's shift in position out of the corner of her eye as his mouth turned up into a smug grin, eyes still focusd on where Souken had been goaded -- or perhaps dragged -- into some sort of contest with Kaien, though the bespectacled little boy didn't seem that thrilled with the idea. Her own eyebrow raised slightly, wondering what was going on, and then she had to keep from smacking a hand to her forehead with a groan as she saw Ichigo's elbow nudge Ishida in the ribs as he leaned over, taking a sip from his drink.

"Oi. Ishida. My kid's better than yours."

Oh god. Not that. It was just so... so juvenile, though a sarcastic part of her mind remarked how that was exactly why it didn't surprise her at all for it to be Ichigo saying it. 7 -- or was it 8? -- years from that night she'd come waltzing through his window and the orange-head that she'd chosen to knit her life too was just as much a thickhead as he'd always been. At least, he was in her opinion. Sighing, she mentally thanked whatever gods or spirits that might be listening that Ishida had more sense then to be goaded thusly. And was rewarded as the Quincy stiffened slightly and pushed glasses further up his nose with a roll of his eyes and a condescending look at Ichigo.

"That is perhaps the most juvenile and idiotic thing that I have ever heard you say, Kurosaki. And certainly not at all relevant as well as being without point."

She hadn't really expected him to stop, afterall Ichigo wasn't one to listen to much of anything else, but she hoped maybe this time logic just might over-ride idiocy. Only... she wasn't that lucky. Smug grin only growing wider, he shook his head and nudged Ishida again before leaning back against the tree trunk.

"Heh, you just don't wanna admit that my kid's better than yours."

Bristling slightly, Ishida leveled a cool glare in Ichigo's direction. This was ridiculous, and besides that it was completely false to boot. Which was precisely what he told Kurosaki.

"What I do and do not wish to 'admit' is hardly any concern of yours, and I hardly think it fitting that you need to try and disguise your own inadequacies by trumpeting your son's virtues. Especially with such an obviously false statement."

She could have hit them. BOTH of them, not just the one she'd have to deal with later when he wanted to gripe.

_Dammit Ishida, couldn't you have just kept quiet? You gave him a damn opening._

Which was exactly what happened as Ichigo's grin turned even wider.

"Yeah, only... it's not."

Sighing in aggravation, she turned her attention back to the apple she had been peeling for Hisana, growling under her breath as she listened to the exchanges between the two get more heated. Idiots, both of them. And even bigger idiots than she'd thought, as she watched Ichigo's eyebrows knit together in a scowl as he leaned in, trying to intimidate.

"My kid's way better than yours. You just don't want to admit it."

Ishida readjusted his glasses with a frown.

"Of course not. Why would I admit to something that is so obviously untrue?"

This wasn't going to end well. Not given the way those two usually clashed. But for now, she wouldn't worry about it. She could break it up later.

"Rukia-san, are they...?"

Inoue, settling back down with Hanako cradled in her arms, glancing to where the Quincy and the Shinigami were now glaring at each other with looks that could have cut glass, each stubbornly refusing to yield. Rolling her eyes with a frustrated sigh, she nodded. Yes, yes they were in fact having an arguement over something like that.

"Yes Inoue, they are. They are."


End file.
